Page 93 of Book and Ladder
All day long, one question circles through my brain on an infinite loop: What am I going to do about Daisy Clark?
I take a break and meander into the kitchen where Maeve is making dinner.
“Are you staying for supper?” she asks.
“I hadn’t planned on it. Are you inviting me?”
“Of course.”
I lift the lid on a pot and Maeve swats my hand. The smell of vegetables and herbs in a broth wafts up in a plume of steam.
“I’ll stay,” I say.
I take a seat at one of the stools at her island and she sets a glass of ice water in front of me.
“Can I ask you something?” I say.
“Of course.” She sets the loaf of French bread on the cutting board and turns toward me, leaning back on the counter.
“How did you know Walker was the one?” I try to appear as nonchalant as possible.
The smile that takes over my sister’s face has me close to considering heading home before it’s dark out—even if going home would mean taking the risk of bumping into Daisy in front of our duplex.
“Patrick? Do you have a woman in your life that we don’t know about?”
By “we,” my sister means the whole O’Connell family.
If only she knew. I’m juggling two women and neither even counts as a girlfriend. A reckless kiss, an online message—and suddenly I’m a man breaking my own codes left and right.
One woman is fire. The other is oxygen. And I thrive on the sparks, but deeply crave a breath of fresh air. Heaven help me—I want to finally breathe, but the flame I swore I put out keeps reigniting.
I spend another few hours in the yard. Ignoring my father … Daisy … life. By the time my sister says the soup, homemade bread and salad are on the table, I’ve distanced myself from reality enough to focus on my nieces and their chatter about Halloween costumes over the family dinner table.
“I wanna be Bluey!” my youngest niece, Boston, declares.
“It doesn’t match,” her older sister, Ariella, says. “We can all be princesses.”
“Even Daddy?” Boston’s nose scrunches up.
“No. Silly. He’s the prince.”
The girls continue to banter about their options.
Maeve turns to me and says, “What are you and the guys at the station doing this year?”
I’ve given this some thought. Ever since M&M mentioned meeting at the Fall Festival, I’ve been trying to come up with a costume that would conceal my identity—in case, for any reason, I meet her and realize she is not a woman I want to pursue.
A good disguise will give me an out and preserve my anonymity.
What if Vanessa is M&M? I know she’s not. Vanessa isn’t that compassionate or humorous—even when she’s putting on her game face.
I’ve been rolling the online conversations through my head. David and Goliath? That could be anyone. It doesn’t have to refer to my dad’s development. And even if it did, a whole lot of small businesses and townspeople have a beef with my family. The vote was won by a slim margin.
“We’re not coordinating costumes this year,” I say to my sister. “I think I’m going as a dragon.”
“Fire breathing?” she smiles. “That’s clever.”
More like a book dragon, but I don’t say that out loud.
